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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27270478">The Kiss The Cook Job</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/therantygeek/pseuds/therantygeek'>therantygeek</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Leverage</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 02:48:24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>10,885</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27270478</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/therantygeek/pseuds/therantygeek</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When the brewpub sort-of-accidentally hires a head chef, Hardison finds himself in the middle of some unexpectedly vicious cook-on-cook action that closely resembles a playground scuffle. Parker enjoys cheesecake. Sophie thinks they need a swingset. Nate likes the potato cakes. And Eliot finds someone who is distinctly unimpressed by his expertise in haute cuisine.</p><p>Written for a challenge: love story (or start thereof) told entirely from a third party's point of view. I am not a professional chef and apologise in advance for any glaring weirdness or inaccuracies.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Eliot Spencer (Leverage)/Original Female Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>58</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p>‘Alec Hardison?’</p><p>Even in the relative safety of the brew pub, immediately responding to his own name from a voice he didn’t recognise wasn’t the smartest thing ever, but Hardison looked up anyway. <em>Ooh. Cute</em>. She was a little older than him but dressed down, far more of a Parker than a Sophie despite the oh-so-English accent similarities. For a moment taking his mind off the currently prevailing challenge of a compact ceramic ascender suitable for elevator scaling, he tried to recall if there were currently any ads in the window. He was <em>sure</em> they were full up on staff for the moment.</p><p>‘Ah…’ as his formidable brain churned unhelpfully, still stuck on tensile material calculations in a kind of intellectual inertia, he struck out blind ‘…can I help you?’</p><p>‘Actually, I’m here to help you.’ A resume was thrust into his face and he took it on reflex, squinting in an effort to scan and process the contents. ‘This place is pootling along, but at least half your tables are free which this close to the lunch rush is absurd, and considering the potential footfall you’re doing nowhere near the takeaway traffic you should be doing. Your menu is – ahem – eclectic at best, reads like haute cuisine and fast food had a tussle where nobody won, and you’re totally misfiring by not leaning more into the sit-down café option considering the Volga history in the area would make <em>Kaffee und Kuchen</em> a no-brainer, especially given all the office and gym spaces on this block alone.’</p><p>Hardison blinked several times, willing his brain to switch gears.</p><p>‘Coffee and cake?’</p><p>‘Afternoon tea, where I’m from originally.’ The woman sat down opposite him and laced her fingers together with a small smile. ‘I’m here to save your pub, Mister Hardison. Assuming you want it saved, of course.’</p><p>‘This <em>pub</em> is doing <em>fine</em>,’ he retorted, now a teensy bit offended at the implication. It <em>was</em> doing fine. Yes, maybe it wasn’t turning a ton of profit but not like they <em>needed</em> it to, and he kept the damned place operating in the black as a matter of professional pride.</p><p>‘<em>Fine</em>?’ she echoed, sounding amused. ‘Have you ever managed a place like this before, Mister Hardison? You know a location like this in the Pearl District changes hands <em>very</em> regularly because most buyers will try to squeeze in a quick dollar, realise within a few months that they aren’t going to reinvent Bar Louie’s and make the kind of mega-bucks they want, then unload the place to the next sucker. If this place doesn’t start turning into more of a money machine, it’s going to start attracting all <em>kinds</em> of interest and probably for reasons you don’t want.’</p><p>He blinked several times.</p><p>‘<em>Excuse</em> you, missy, but I don’t need nobody telling me how to run <em>my</em> business-‘</p><p>‘Not your main business, I’m sure.’ Cocking her head, she tapped her fingers on the table. ‘But that Silicon Valley app unicorn R&amp;D tax evasion enterprise, or whatever you <em>really</em> do for a living, isn’t going to stay under the radar for long when you’re operating a business publicly like <em>this one</em>. Trust me.’ Standing, she flashed a rather disarmingly cheeky grin at him and tapped the paper still in his hands. ‘I can help you. You <em>need</em> it. So have a look over and give me a call, before someone else does.’</p><p>With that she was gone. Rather taken aback, not least at the implication that his <em>main business</em> was in any way related to some Silicon Valley hack’s wet dreams, Hardison grabbed his laptop and stalked into the back room to go over the brew pub’s public-facing records with another of his finest digital toothcombs. It still looked fine to him; decent margins, net profitability, all in the black. What the hell was the problem?</p><p>‘You’re doing math?’</p><p>He was rather pleased with himself for not falling off the stool as Parker’s voice just materialised out of nowhere from behind him; she was hanging from the rafters again. Upside down. Again.</p><p>‘Hey mama.’ Turning to peck her on the cheek, grinning unashamedly when she returned the gesture, Hardison indicated the screens. ‘Just some damn woman comes in here all up in the pub’s business saying we not making enough money to be realistic…’</p><p>It took him whole seconds to get into the local chamber of commerce database to compare fiduciary records with comparable nearby businesses, and even less time than that to swear loudly at what he found. River Pig, Giorgio’s, even the damn Sungari Peal up on NW 11<sup>th</sup>, all of them were turning over quadruple the brew pub’s equivalent in profit <em>or</em> had changed hands at least every six months.</p><p>‘How the hell did I miss this?’ he exclaimed unhappily to the room and the universe in general.</p><p>‘Miss what?’ Parker actually swung herself the right way up and sat down next to him, unfastening her harness. ‘Is something wrong? Something bad?’</p><p>‘Stupid damn hospitality industry margins and profitability-‘ Hardison dug his phone out, selected the most appropriate SIM and found the number on the resume next to him ‘-should’ve just got us another boring corporate office, for all the thanks I get…’</p><p>Parker made her best <em>oh-dear-sorry</em> face, which was adorable, but he had to ignore it to school his voice into some semblance of professionalism as the call picked up.</p><p>‘Hi there, Miss – uh – Miss Thomas? It’s Alec Hardison, from the Bridgeport…’</p><p>‘<em>Less than an hour.</em>’ The woman sounded like she was five seconds off bursting into raucous laughter. ‘<em>You work fast, Mister Hardison</em>.’</p><p>‘All right, you got me.’ Already he was running through safety checks in the back of his head. ‘Look, we kind of got a head chef – and boy is he a prickly one – but I’m thinking you got the balls to walk into my house and call me on it, you at least get a first audition, right?’</p><p>‘<em>When are you thinking</em>?’</p><p>‘Well, me and my lady are going to be in tonight, so if you ain’t busy…’</p><p>‘<em>Dinner for two, ten o’clock? I’ll bring my own ingredients, if you don’t mind, since I don’t know where you’re sourcing from</em>. <em>Just make sure I have the run of the kitchen</em>.’</p><p>‘All right. See you before then, I guess?’</p><p>‘<em>Sounds delightful. Any food allergies I should know about</em>?’</p><p>‘We all good.’ Hardison grinned. ‘Go nuts.’</p><p>‘<em>Duly noted. See you at half past nine, Mister Hardison</em>. <em>And your…lady friend</em>.’</p><p>‘Lady?’ Parke regarded him dubiously as he hung up. ‘What are we doing? Is this a date thing? Why does it involve another person?’</p><p>‘Back of house manager stroke head chef. We don’t got one, we kind of need one, and this one walked in off the street and poked about fifty holes in the damned placed just from what’s on the public records.’ Hardison shrugged and grimaced. ‘I’m thinking maybe a little industry expertise might be what this place needs, you feel me?’</p><p>‘You’re going to hire a head chef?’ She cocked her head. ‘I thought Eliot was our head chef?’</p><p>‘I’m talking a real-‘ then, remembering his beloved’s lack of a filter, Hardison hurriedly corrected ‘-ahem – full time head chef who don’t vanish off on jobs with us and leave the place at the mercy of the line cooks. Someone who can really <em>run</em> the place, you know, turnkey style.’</p><p>Her faced scrunched up.</p><p>‘I don’t think Eliot’s going to like that.’</p><p>‘Yeah, well.’ Hardison shrugged with a nonchalance he didn’t really feel. ‘Eliot don’t like a <em>lot</em> of things. Tonight is all you and me, baby, taking a different chef for a spin. Sound good?’</p><p>‘I’m telling him it was all your idea.’</p><p>‘What? No, don’t <em>tell him</em> anything! Woman, you <em>want</em> me to get beaten to death with a damn spoon?’</p><p>After finally managing to extract assurances from Parker that no, she would not volunteer anything about a potential employed head chef’s audition for the pub to Eliot, Hardison wove one of his practiced earlier-than-usual-closure yarns for the rest of the staff. All of whom were quite happy to take the free few hours of pay and sashay off early, of course, but he didn’t mind that.</p><p>What he <em>should</em> have counted on was Parker getting <em>very</em> sniffy and investigative when Miss Molly Thomas showed up dead on half nine carrying two enormous brown paper bags and a thick roll of aged brown leather with a well-worn handle that looked disturbingly like a set of oversized lockpicks. She put everything down in the kitchen, ran a finger over the nearest surface and then clucked her tongue.</p><p>Hardison tried not to look <em>too</em> much like a chastened little boy as the damn women proceeded to briskly re-clean the entire kitchen from top to bottom in a whirlwind. Now that it came up he did seem to recall some minor incident involving Eliot, one of the bussers and a series of whimpering noises which had culminated in the employee jumping at even the smallest noises for the next fortnight.</p><p>‘She’s cleaning, not cooking,’ Parker hissed. ‘Why is she cleaning rather than cooking?’</p><p>‘Because having you both die of salmonella wouldn’t be a great way to start my petition for employment,’ the woman said wryly, flipping a dishtowel over her shoulder. ‘Your <em>kind of</em> current head chef must be an absolute wimp if he lets the cleaning staff off that easy.’</p><p>Hardison coughed several times to cover the sound of Parker nearly sliding under the bar with laughter.</p><p>‘Well he’s – we’re – it’s a busy place, you know, and most of the staff ain’t got much experience-‘</p><p>‘Hiring green? Very admirable. Everyone has to start somewhere. But all the more reason you need a real fire-breather to get them trained up right.’ She flipped the leather roll open and Hardison felt himself blink at the glint of over a dozen knives that had been bundled within. ‘Let’s start with the basics, shall we? Bruschetta, mini calzones, nachos, some soups…’</p><p>‘Ooh.’ Parker beamed at Hardison. ‘We’re going to be like proper food people!’</p><p>By the time they were working their way through what had to be at least the eighteenth taster of the evening, and Parker was still trying to mop up any leftover fragments of crumbs from the cheesecake bites, Hardison was even ready to brave Eliot’s ire to get Molly back into the brew pub in some official capacity. In fact in the time it took her to wash up and clean down the kitchen – <em>properly</em>, in her words – he’d hatched what would hopefully be the perfect plan to get her on board.</p><p>‘So do I get a call back?’ she asked dryly. ‘For the cheesecake if nothing else?’</p><p>‘Amazing cheesecake,’ Parker whispered.</p><p>‘Girl you got the damn job but-‘ Hardison constructed a shrug ‘-I kind of got to run it by our – uh – our board, you know, like the other folks got interests in the place. Including that chef guy I mentioned.’</p><p>‘Oh, lord, I see, one of <em>those</em>.’ Molly rolled her eyes. ‘Well, how many people does this involve?’</p><p>‘Five, including the two of us.’ He grinned at her. ‘How’s your Thursday evening?’</p><p>‘Full audition for five, including a hobbyist hash slinger?’ She grinned right back. ‘You drive a hard bargain. All right, Thursday evening then. Preferably with a <em>clean</em> kitchen, this time. Again, any allergies I should know about so I don’t accidentally kill anyone?’</p><p>‘Nope.’ Then something occurred to Hardison and he barely suppressed a chuckle. ‘Oh, but our chef dude <em>really </em>hates beets. So just…you know. Bear that in mind.’</p><p>‘Beets, huh?’ She snorted. ‘Thanks for the tip.’</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Don't Write It Off</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p>Once Molly was gone Hardison put together some carefully-worded emails while Parker sniffed hopefully around the kitchen in case the chef had somehow overlooked an entire berry cheesecake somewhere by accident, then they sat back and waited for the inevitable shitstorm that would follow.</p><p>It touched down, right on time, in the form of Hurricane Eliot stomping into the office the following morning doing a close impression of a grizzly bear with a toothache.</p><p>‘A <em>chef</em>? Dammit, Hardison, you’ve <em>got</em> a god damned <em>chef</em> for this dump!’</p><p>‘We need a real one, though,’ Parker said with a shrug.</p><p>‘A <em>full time</em> person to run the kitchen,’ Hardison corrected quickly, recognising the warning twitch beside Eliot’s right eyebrow that normally preceded gratuitous violence, ‘Is what she means, man, don’t get all up over yourself, we got a day job, right? Just…y’know, with the other staffers and whatever and wanting to really gastro-up this pub-’</p><p>‘She’s amazing,’ Parker added, deciding that today was a good day to practice wilful obliviousness to anything outside of her own internal monologue. ‘In fact I think her chilli was better than-‘</p><p>‘-than a <em>lot</em> of the chilli, you know, out there, in the world of chilli,’ Hardison hurriedly interrupted, hurriedly inserting himself between girlfriend and hitter with both hands raised placatingly. ‘Just as a, uh, a you know, opinion, lots of good, uh, chilli stuff and – oh, hey!’ Thank god, Nate and Sophie had just walked in. ‘Look at that! We all here now, great stuff!’</p><p>‘What in the world-‘ Sophie began.</p><p>‘Wanna replace me on jobs, too?’ Eliot snapped, getting just the right glint of crazy in his eyes that meant he was about to heap abuse onto the concept of sarcasm. ‘Huh? Get someone else in to get punched and kicked for you? That sound like a good idea for a <em>full time </em>job?’</p><p>‘Dude, we ain’t <em>replacing</em> you!’ Hardison exclaimed. ‘Will you chill out, man? Seriously. Sit down. Take a pill. That vein in your head gonna <em>pop</em> any second-‘</p><p>‘<em>What</em> is going on?’ Nate asked, loudly, with just a touch of his schoolteacher voice.</p><p>‘Hardison wants to hire a chef for the brew pub and Eliot’s being pissy about it,’ Parker said helpfully.</p><p>‘Pissy – I’m not <em>pissy</em>, I’m <em>pissed-off</em>!’ Eliot barked.</p><p>‘Hey, <em>hey</em>!’ Hardison wagged a finger at him. ‘This ain’t a done deal, get me? She coming by tomorrow night. Y’all gonna come in, right, and she’s gonna audition. Did a little – uh – a little preview for me and Parker yesterday evening, nothing special, just some tasters, all above board. Okay?’</p><p>‘I think that’s an excellent idea,’ Sophie said, beaming in that no-more-arguments sort of way she had. ‘It’ll be fun, Eliot! You can sort of dabble, <em>consult</em> about things rather than worry about every little detail and the staff and the menu and all that…stuff.’</p><p>‘Plus we told her you don’t like beets,’ Parker added cheerfully. ‘So. You know. There’s that.’</p><p>They didn’t see him for the rest of the day – although several of the wait staff seemed to be going to great lengths to avoid going into the kitchen – and Hardison almost worried that he’d genuinely offended the hitter, but come Thursday evening Eliot stomped in through the side door and sat down with a glare that should by rights have partially melted the floor tiles, or at least set the curtains on fire.</p><p>‘Well, this is going to be a fun night,’ Nate said under his breath, pouring himself another whisky.</p><p>‘Is she going to make the cheesecake things again?’ Parker asked urgently, tugging at Hardison’s sleeve. ‘Did you tell her to make those? She should make those again.’</p><p>‘I don’t <em>know</em> what she’s going to make, woman, that’s kind of the point.’</p><p>‘I think it’s fun,’ Sophie said. ‘Menu taste testing, like professional foodies! You know I once ran a con on the owner of <em>Le Fouquet’s</em> in Paris and-‘</p><p>‘She’s late,’ Eliot growled, folding his arms pointedly at Hardison.</p><p>‘No she ain’t, man, it’s <em>just</em> gone nine and-‘</p><p>As if on cue the main door opened and Molly bustled in, again loaded down with brown paper bags and the enormous leather knife roll tucked under one arm.</p><p>‘-<em>see</em>.’ Hardison made a face at Eliot, because he knew it would annoy him, and then got up. ‘Hey Molly, you need a hand with that or-‘</p><p>‘Wouldn’t bring it if I couldn’t carry it,’ she replied cheerfully, managing to construct a vague one-handed wave of sorts at the table. ‘Evening all! First bits won’t be a tick!’</p><p>‘English?’ Eliot all but snarled as Hardison sat back down. ‘An <em>English</em> chef? What’s she gonna do, <em>boil</em> everything to death?’</p><p>‘Hey!’ Sophie flapped a hand at him. ‘There’s nothing wrong with English cooking!’</p><p>‘Ain’t nothing <em>right</em> with English cooking…’</p><p>‘Pfft.’ Then of course she was up and wandering behind the bar to the serving window to cheerily say hello and started exclaiming delightedly that Molly was from the Kent coast, wherever the hell that was, and in minutes the two of them were English-ing away at each other at top speed.</p><p>‘What’s an English chef doing in Portland?’ Nate mused, idly swirling the liquid around in his glass. Hardison snorted at that typical over-paranoid curiosity.</p><p>‘Man, what’s an English grifter doing in Portland? Everyone gotta be somewhere.’</p><p>‘This is gonna be a train wreck,’ Eliot said, perversely now sounding almost gleeful.</p><p>‘What about the cheesecake?’ Parker insisted.</p><p>‘Well, she seems <em>lovely</em>,’ was Sophie’s conclusion as she came back to the table. ‘Always nice to meet a fellow Brit over here – she’s from Kent, down on the south-east coast, you know, the Garden of England we call it, lots of farms and orchards and all that sort of thing, not to mention the fishing towns-‘</p><p>Fortunately they didn’t have to listen to Sophie’s local trivia for too long as Molly came out with a tray and began unloading it onto the table.</p><p>‘Just some dips and things to get going. Spinach artichoke, butternut hummus, some guac, curried red lentil, some tzatziki if you prefer something cooler, baba ganoush, and that’s a vegan pimento cheese if you can believe it…’</p><p>‘Vegan cheese, huh?’ Eliot curled his lip up in disgust. ‘<em>Great</em>.’</p><p>‘Dude, will you at least <em>try</em> it first?’ Hardison exclaimed, but then Molly was back with a basket of focaccia, pittas and adorable little miniature pretzels that Parker immediately pounced on.</p><p>‘Ooh, that’s <em>good</em>,’ Sophie murmured, examining a the guacamole from all angles on the square of bread she had before taking another bite.</p><p>‘Not bad,’ Nate agreed idly. ‘Not bad at all.’</p><p>‘Babe, you gotta put some of the dip on it, not just eat the pretzels,’ Hardison said when Parker would have happily just stuffed a whole one into her mouth.</p><p>‘But they’re good,’ she protested.</p><p>‘Is there cream cheese in this?’ Sophie added, licking a dollop of the spinach dip off her finger. ‘It’s <em>so </em>rich!’</p><p>‘Blended cauliflower and Greek yoghurt,’ Molly supplied without even turning on her way back to the kitchen.</p><p>‘Mmm…<em>not</em> so sinful, then…oh!’</p><p>‘Crostini, <em>super</em> versatile and perfect for platter menus. Charred ratatouille veggies, herbes de Provence and a little goat cheese…these are sweet potato and sunflower spread, or beet hummus and pine nuts. Don’t fill up, Parker,’ she added with a wink. ‘We’re just getting started.’</p><p>‘<em>Beet</em> hummus?’ Eliot muttered, making a face.</p><p>‘With coriander and cumin. Don’t write it off just because it’s pink, cowboy,’ Molly said with a grin before vanishing back through the door.</p><p>Hardison actually had to slap Nate away from the potato cakes, barely got a look in on the stuffed mushrooms, and was fairly sure Parker was going to turn <em>into</em> sweet potato the way she devoured the fries in handfuls. Then the mains samples started arriving and Molly had done the steak medium again, snorting when he protested.</p><p>‘I told you, Alec, if you want to eat charcoal then go set an old boot on fire and load your ketchup onto that, easier way to get the same effect. This is <em>food</em>.’</p><p>That actually got a small cackle from Eliot which was, if not approving, at least in the same general neighbourhood; Hardison’s preference for well-done steak had resulted in exasperated noises from the hitter more than once. Then the desserts came out.</p><p>‘And so everyone <em>else</em> has a chance to try this course…’ Molly suddenly plopped a wooden tray with small samples of at least six different cakes and a dozen other sweets right in front of Parker, who squealed and clapped like a little girl who’d just seen her first unicorn scrunchie.</p><p>‘-not really one for sweet things-‘ Nate mumbled.</p><p>‘Good thing there’s affogato and cheeses too,’ she told him without missing a beat. ‘So suck it up and eat up, hmm?’</p><p>‘Well said,’ Sophie remarked with a grin. ‘<em>Ooh</em>, that cheesecake is <em>divine</em>…’</p><p>‘You <em>have</em> to hire her,’ Parker said to Hardison. ‘Just to make cheesecake. Eliot can do everything else if he wants.’</p><p>‘I can make you a damn cheesecake if you want one, Parker,’ Eliot grumbled, although did deign to try a small spoonful of the lemon posset as well as a tiny bit of tiramisu, which was quite the concession by his standards.</p><p>Then Molly blitzed through to collect all the dishes and got back to rattling about in the kitchen cleaning everything up, and Hardison spread his hands pointedly.</p><p>‘So?’</p><p>‘Hire her,’ Parker insisted, repeating herself steadily louder over Nate’s equivocations and Sophie’s unnecessarily excessively verbose analysis, then finally actually balling a fist and slamming it onto the table. ‘<em>HIRE HER NOW</em>!’</p><p>That startled them all into silence and Hardison barely resisted the urge to beam adoringly at her, settling for patting her hand and nodding.</p><p>‘You got it, mama.’</p><p>Instantly she was all smiles again.</p><p>‘What on earth is going on out there?’ Molly’s voice drifted over from the kitchen window with a tone halfway between amused bafflement and genuine alarm.</p><p>‘Nothing,’ Hardison called. ‘Nothing – uh – look, that was all kinds of awesome and-‘ he gave up ‘-hell, you know what, when can you start?’</p><p>She broke into a grin.</p><p>‘I can put some more coffee on and we can talk menus right now.’</p><p>‘All right! Love it! Love the <em>passion</em>!’</p><p>‘Yeah!’ Parker did a happy little sitting wriggle-dance. ‘<em>Passion</em>, yeah!’</p><p>‘Do you think you might have maybe had <em>too</em> much sugar, Parker?’ Sophie asked gently.</p><p>‘So.’ Molly came to sit down and waved a menu at Hardison. ‘Are you going to introduce me to all these nice people, and tell me who’s the dumb-dumb who saw wheat ale on the brew list and completely failed to include any shrimp on the menu?’</p><p>‘That’s what the <em>salads</em> are for!’ Eliot exploded. ‘Wheat beers are like dry white wine, they can go with <em>anything</em>-‘</p><p>‘What, scared of a little paella?’</p><p>‘I see we gonna have some healthy <em>creative differences</em>-‘ Hardison said hurriedly, shooting the hitter what he fervently hoped would be interpreted as a placating look ‘-but ain’t no reason for any nastiness, now, all right?’</p><p>There was a silence broken only by the slow click of Eliot grinding his jaw.</p><p>‘Shrimp sells,’ Molly said with a note of finality. ‘My paella <em>always</em> does well. Perfect for American wheat ale, easy to prep and fast on the stove.’ Then she sat down and turned to Parker with a bright smile. ‘So. Cheesecake?’</p><p>‘Yes.’ Parker beamed at her. ‘Yes, cheesecake. Very yes.’</p>
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<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Delusions Of Culinary Grandeur</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
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</p><p>‘If people wanted to fiddle with asparagus and artichoke they’d go to Castagna up on Hawthorne! Pubs are supposed to serve <em>food</em>, not hand-eye coordination exercises!’</p><p>‘-the <em>hell’s</em> that supposed to mean?’</p><p>‘All you bloody Anthony Bourdain wannabes with your fiddly la-di-dah sprigs of this and <em>frisson</em> of that-‘</p><p>‘<em>Fiddly la-di-dah</em>-‘</p><p>‘Oh, go suck on a ceviche, cowboy!’</p><p>‘Doesn’t that…put people off?’ Nate asked Hardison casually, indicating the latest shouting match spilling out of the brew pub’s kitchen through the serving window into the main dining area. ‘I mean they are being…<em>very</em> loud.’</p><p>‘Wait staff say the tips get better when they’re going at it,’ Hardison replied with a shrug, not even bothering to look up from his laptop. ‘Dinner and a show, I guess.’</p><p>‘Huh. Takes all sorts.’</p><p>‘It’s amazing,’ Parker said, chin in hand, staring in unabashed fascination at the sight of Molly making a fairly unambiguous motion with a melon baller in Eliot’s direction. ‘I’ve never seen him fight with anyone so much and <em>not</em> actually hit them.’</p><p>‘Please.’ Sophie chuckled. ‘If they were on a playground they’d be yanking on each other’s hair by now.’</p><p>‘Hair?’</p><p>‘Mmm. He’d have pushed her off the swings, too, I bet.’</p><p>‘Swings? We’re getting swings?’</p><p>Hardison tried to explain to her in between chuckling but was cut off by the bang of the service door as Eliot exited the kitchen at speed, still ranting – mostly to himself – about something to do with remoulade and blue cheese, glared at the four of them on principle and then left the pub.</p><p>‘Not to put too fine a point on it,’ Nate said slowly. ‘But could someone maybe remind him that we actually have a briefing for a job today?’</p><p>Said job, thank god, took them out of town for a good few weeks, and let Eliot take his culinary frustrations out on several unfortunate PMC employees as well as one extremely stubborn would-be hitman who would definitely be reviewing his life choices when – and potentially if – he ever regained consciousness.</p><p>Hardison was, however, willing to admit that when they got back to Portland and saw the honest-to-god <em>queue</em> outside the Bridgeport, his jaw hit the sidewalk along with everyone else’s.</p><p>‘How the-‘</p><p>‘I guess the takeaway trade picked up,’ Sophie commented, sticking her hands into her pockets. ‘Are those extra tables outside? They’re all full, although it is-‘ checking her watch ‘-just after two, I suppose.’</p><p>Inside was jam-packed too, but the takeaway line was moving along at a clip and lots of people were ambling happily out with Bridgeport paper bags while the wait staff handled the seating. It took every inch of Hardison’s self-control to head to the back room for the job debrief with Nate, but finally it was done and he could slip to the kitchen.</p><p>Parker was sitting on top of one of the counters munching on a mini strawberry cheesecake, evidently pilfered from a tray of them nearby.</p><p>‘Good trip?’ Molly asked, glancing back from whatever she was doing to flash a grin before rolling her eyes. ‘Oh for god’s sake, Parker, those are for the front!’</p><p>‘-s just one…’</p><p>‘Then make it <em>just one</em>.’</p><p>‘<em>Ow</em>!’ Parker rubbed at the back of her hand with an offended look, but Molly seemed unrepentant about having just slapped it with a wooden spoon. ‘Rude.’</p><p>‘Yeah, how did you…’ Hardison gestured absently to indicate the pub at large.</p><p>‘Did a free new menu taster afternoon two weeks ago, invited some local bloggers, and it turns out Portland was <em>really</em> jonesing for somewhere to have drinks and dessert in the afternoons.’ She grinned at him. ‘The new take-out breakfast bagels are a hit, too.’</p><p>‘Woman, you are a <em>witch</em>. Like a – a food witch!’</p><p>‘Didn’t I <em>say</em> you needed me?’ <em>Thwap</em>. ‘Parker, get out of my bloody kitchen! Oh, and tell Eliot that the paella’s been our top seller for a week running now so he can take his fancy vinaigrette salad and <em>shove</em> it-‘</p><p>‘Man, you <em>really</em> got to ease up on this chef-v-chef thing,’ Hardison said quickly as Parker scurried away.</p><p>‘I’ll ease up when he does,’ Molly replied without so much as a blink. ‘That man does <em>not</em> seem to understand the principle of a sensible, non-fiddly menu for the type of people this pub attracts. Between constantly wanting to stuff terrine into perfectly good steak and that downright unhealthy obsession he has with consommé – do you know he actually suggested a <em>ballotine</em> the other day? With a straight face?’</p><p>‘No way! Uh. What’s a ballotine?’</p><p>‘De-boned poultry leg stuffed with herbs, veggies and forcemeat – which you’d probably call sausage meat – tied up to still hold the original shape.’</p><p>‘Oh. Like a turducken leg?’</p><p>‘Sort of.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘That pompous, ponytailed <em>hick</em> had the<em> nerve</em> to accuse me of not knowing how to use a trussing needle! Can you believe the nerve?’</p><p>‘Ah-ha…no.’ Hardison tried to imagine what level of unmitigated violence would ensue if anyone ever referred to Eliot as a <em>ponytailed hick</em> in the hitter’s hearing, and was rather relieved that he couldn’t, choosing instead to slink out of the kitchen and just keep his nose out of it for the time being. A few days later, however, things escalated a whole other notch.</p><p>‘You can’t just <em>replace</em> cream cheese with ricotta and think nobody’ll notice! It’ll <em>totally</em> change the texture!’</p><p>‘It works <em>fine</em> if you blend it down and add a little salt, it’s <em>much</em> healthier, and the lower-fat dishes have nearly doubled our customer base for mid-week lunches!’</p><p>‘Well maybe if you like <em>lumps</em> of everything-‘</p><p>‘I’m sure <em>you</em> like <em>lumps</em> plenty, cowboy, but this is <em>my</em> kitchen and-‘</p><p>‘-calorie-counting obsessed-‘</p><p>‘-dare touch <em>my</em> bloody mixing bowl-‘</p><p>‘-whatever passes for taste in England-‘</p><p><em>THWACK</em>.</p><p>Hardison all but sprinted towards the kitchen in alarm at the sound of the impact, but Parker was faster and burst into laughter before he could even get in through the service door.</p><p>‘What the…’ he stopped short at the sight; Eliot clutching one wrist with an outright wounded expression, a small splatter of whatever-it-was in the bowl across the countertop, and Molly pointedly holding the wooden spoon. From the red mark on the back of the hitter’s hand it wasn’t exactly hard to deduce what had just happened, which at least explained why Parker was all but doubled up.</p><p>‘She hit me!’ Eliot exclaimed, sounding halfway between outraged and almost genuinely upset, and it honestly took every inch of self-control Alec had not to join his girlfriend’s guffaws.</p><p>‘I’ll hit you again somewhere <em>much</em> more painful if you don’t get out of my bloody kitchen,’ Molly snapped. ‘I’ve got a backlog of orders, both line cooks called out sick, and a Midwestern bumpkin with delusions of culinary grandeur getting in the way is <em>not</em> helping!’</p><p>‘Wait – <em>both</em>?’ That alarmed Alec; it was unlike Joey and Franklin to call out at all, let alone both in the same day.</p><p>‘They were both at Marie’s engagement party last night,’ Molly said with a shrug. ‘It <em>seemed</em> like it was going to be a quiet one so I let them off. Was coping <em>fine</em> until the cowboy here decided to barge in and-‘</p><p>‘All right, all right.’ Alec held both hands up, noticing the unusually long line of order tickets. ‘Let’s just all take a deep, calming breath, and-‘</p><p>‘Eliot should be the line cook,’ Parker said, eyes wide with that look of false innocence that Hardison unfortunately knew all too well as the prelude to mischief. ‘He’s the one slowing Molly down.’</p><p>‘I – uh-‘ then Hardison saw the open-mouthed look on Eliot’s face and cracked a grin ‘-you know what, mama, I think you’re right. Only seems fair. Huh, man?’</p><p>It took everything in him not to flinch when Eliot turned on one of those <em>I’m-about-to-end-you</em> glares and started twitching his nose in a way that normally suggested animalistic growling noises were about to follow, but Molly just snorted and turned back to the bowl.</p><p>‘He’d just slow me down <em>more</em>, I imagine.’</p><p>‘You-‘ then Eliot set his jaw ‘-you know what? Fine. I’ll <em>freaking</em> line cook.’ Grabbing an apron from the peg, he threw it over his head and tied the back with the sort of firm, deliberate motions he normally reserved for readying a weapon on a job.</p><p>‘Oh, <em>please</em>, can you even follow someone else’s recipes?’</p><p>‘I <em>know</em> your damn recipes, even if they’re-‘</p><p>‘And tie your hair back!’</p><p>‘It <em>is</em> tied back!’</p><p>‘<em>Properly</em>! This is a <em>kitchen</em>, not a bloody teppanyaki grill!’</p><p>Hardison was never quite clear on exactly what happened in the next fifteen seconds but it seemed to involve a lot of angry noises, repeated use of the word <em>wanker</em>, and culminated in the entirely unexpected sight of Eliot with a purple-sequinned scrunchie holding his hair back in an unusually tight ponytail behind his bandana.</p><p>Parker opened her mouth but, to save his beloved’s life as well as his own, Alec just yanked her out of the kitchen.</p><p>The rest of that afternoon and evening shift passed…strangely quietly. Not that there weren’t plenty of customers, but the kitchen was a lot less <em>shouty</em> than he’d expected. Food was coming out in a steady, efficient stream despite the volume of people seated <em>and</em> the queue for take-out pickups. The waiters were positively sweating trying to keep up with everything.</p><p>And all night long, the other shoe didn’t drop.</p><p>‘Are you waiting for something to happen?’ Sophie asked Hardison after the last of the front of house staff cleared out. She and Nate had clearly spent the entire hour since they’d arrived that evening trying to figure out why he was watching the kitchen window with the air of a man waiting for a semi-timed detonation.</p><p>‘Short staffed so Eliot’s line-cooking for Molly.’ Alec stared blankly at his laptop screen for a few moments more, then gave up and closed the damned thing.</p><p>‘My idea,’ Parker added proudly.</p><p>‘Interesting plan,’ Nate observed with a snort, glancing around as the service door banged open. Eliot came out first, now devoid of both apron and – mercifully – the scrunchie, followed by Molly. Neither of them appeared to be wearing any obvious injuries, but they were both also clearly exhausted. Perhaps mutual fatigue from a hard kitchen shift had done what even Sophie’s best diplomatic efforts had failed to achieve.</p><p>Molly plopped onto the chair next to Nate, absently scrubbing a hand over her face, then blinked in surprise as Eliot, who’d diverted course via the bar, held out one of the two beers he’d grabbed.</p><p>‘Peace offering?’</p><p>‘I can’t say no to a man offering a stout after a shift like that.’ She accepted the bottle and even clinked it against his as he sat down.</p><p>‘Good lord,’ Sophie said, chuckling. ‘Don’t tell me you two have finally achieved <em>détente</em>?’</p><p>‘I wouldn’t go that far,’ Molly replied dryly.</p><p>‘Aw, c’mon.’ Eliot actually smirked at her a little, which set alarm bells off in Hardison’s head. He knew that smirk. That was the <em>female of the species </em>smirk. ‘I thought we made a pretty good team.’</p><p>‘Hmm.’ She regarded him with evident amusement over a swig of beer. ‘For all that cornfed haute-cuisine affectation you aren’t a half bad line cook. If I hear of anyone who needs hash and corned beef slung over a grill I’ll be sure to give them your number.’</p><p>‘Ouch.’ But the smirk was still there. ‘Except you’d need me to give <em>you</em> my number first, right?’</p><p>Hardison barely resisted the urge to bang his head on the table.</p><p>‘I assume if anyone dialled <em>1-800 yokel</em> they’d reach you,’ Molly replied without so much as blinking. ‘Or at least one of your various cousins-stroke-ex-wives.’</p><p>Even Nate chortled at that one but Alec could see the tell-tale glint in Eliot’s eye along with the little smile tugging at one corner of his mouth. <em>Really, dude?</em> Any second now…</p><p>‘So, you thought about calling for a reference, huh?’</p><p>‘Not much point now I’ve seen you in what presumably passes for action,’ she shot back.</p><p>‘Only in the kitchen…but you want to see me anywhere else, you only gotta ask.’ Ah, there it was, the slight lean forward, hint of a wicked grin, deliberate accentuation of the Oklahoman drawl…</p><p>‘Well, the next time my paint-drying observation group calls a raincheck, I’ll be able to say I have a backup plan.’</p><p>Hardison coughed to hide the laugh and avoided looking at Sophie, who was sipping her wine to conceal a grin, and Nate, who was paying unusually studious attention to his own shoes. Parker, on the other hand, was staring in unabashed fascination, like a visitor from another planet observing their first tennis match.</p><p>‘Oh, the last thing I do is watch stuff <em>dry</em>,’ Eliot said with a waggle of his eyebrows, apparently so focused on Molly that for the moment he hadn’t deigned to notice the amusement of the team. ‘C’mon, how ‘bout it? Let me take you to dinner some time…some place neither of us has to cook, huh?’</p><p>She gave him a long look, while downing the last of the bottle, and stood up with a small snort.</p><p>‘Nah.’ Then, putting her coat on, she grabbed her purse and left the pub through the front door without further comment, leaving Eliot visibly dumbfounded. He’d <em>never</em> been cut quite that dead before, and Hardison had seen the man hit on an unreasonably large number of women.</p><p>Alec found himself fighting back the urge to cheer, which must have shown on his face – that or Eliot finally registered the rest of the highly entertained expressions around him at the table – because the hitter’s next actual was to glare, growl something vaguely threatening and then stalk back into the kitchen where, from the sound of it, he engaged in taking his frustrations out on the compost bins.</p><p>Parker giggled and nudged Hardison’s shoulder.</p><p>‘I <em>really</em> like Molly.’</p>
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<a name="section0004"><h2>4. A Pretty Crappy Way To Order A Paella</h2></a>
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</p><p>The brief ceasefire seemed to have evaporated by the following morning – Hardison got in just in time to hear the clang of a saucepan and a shout of <em>out of my bloody kitchen</em> before Eliot exited the service door at speed – but this time the hitter lingered in the doorway with a broad grin, looking back towards the stove.</p><p>‘You know a <em>poulet Vallée d’Auge</em> really ain’t that hard, if you’re worried you can’t handle the flambé – <em>woah</em>!’ This was as he had to lunge to one side to avoid being hit by the rather well-aimed hurl of a ladle. Stooping to pick it up, he put it carefully onto the busser’s station and then flashed a nearby waiter an ear-to-ear broad grin like he was thoroughly enjoying himself.</p><p>‘She’s got a good aim, huh man?’</p><p>Alec considered intervening as Eliot went back into the kitchen – the sudden sound of an electric mixer firing up held a note of foreboding – then decided against it and fled to the back room.</p><p>‘Told you,’ Sophie said with a wink from where she was drinking tea on the couch, and tugged a lock of her hair pointedly with a knowing smile. ‘Earlier he told her she was <em>feisty</em> and she clonked him right on the back of the head with a pair of tongs.’</p><p>‘Then he said he <em>liked a lady who could handle herself</em> and she told him to go dunk his head in the fryer,’ Parker added helpfully, ‘But a couple of orders came in, so I don’t think she noticed that he didn’t.’</p><p>The pattern of escalating threats-versus-flirting seemed to hold with annoying persistence, however, surviving three out of state jobs and a two week trip to Budapest without so much as a flicker. More than once Hardison gingerly risked trying to intervene – in the name of being a decent employer, if nothing else – but Molly just laughingly assured him that <em>the cowboy’s</em> persistent overtures, as well as her incidental menacing and-or smacking him with things, was <em>all in good fun</em> and nothing to worry about. Eliot was clearly relishing the interactions, and very possibly the challenge, as she still stubbornly refused to so much as give him her cell number, and it was hard to shake the feeling that Molly rather savoured his persistence, too, so Alec shrugged and let them get on with it.</p><p>‘I give it six months, tops, before they stop needling at each other and realise they’ve both caught feelings,’ was Sophie’s extremely entertained verdict.</p><p>‘One of them’ll crack sooner than that,’ Nate said, not even looking up from the files he was perusing. ‘I give it four.’</p><p>‘Hundred bucks, you’re on.’</p><p>‘Oh!’ Parker slid down from the ceiling where she’d been eavesdropping. ‘I say six more weeks!’</p><p>‘Hardison?’</p><p>‘I am <em>not</em> betting on-’ Alec exclaimed as Nate made a small show of writing the figures down on a piece of paper, folding it carefully and slotting it between two books on a nearby shelf ‘-oh, y’all are bad, <em>bad</em> people!’</p><p>He tried not to think too much about that – not least because of how <em>very</em> pissed Eliot would be when and if the hitter found out – but in fact all notions of the bet fled clean out of his mind when, just two days later, they were in the middle of a job brief and someone hammered violently at the back room door. Alec exchanged a small frown with Parker and hurriedly killed the projector as she went to open the door.</p><p>‘Amy?’</p><p>The waitress seemed to be reeling, and had an envelope in her hand which she held out somewhat feebly.</p><p>‘It’s Molly. She’s gone.’</p><p>‘What?’ Eliot was up first, striding across to snatch the envelope and pull out the paper inside, scanning it with a scowl before passing it over. Hardison frowned. It was a resignation letter, neatly typed, but with today’s date scrawled hastily at the top by hand.</p><p>‘When did she give you this?’ he asked Amy.</p><p>‘She didn’t. Joey found it, just now.’</p><p>A hurried interrogation via the kitchen revealed the duty line cook to be just as bewildered and confused.</p><p>‘I dunno, man, ticket came in and she just stared at it for like a whole minute, then she looked out the service window and sorta threw the order at me, said she was taking five. When I looked up from plating she’d gone and I found the envelope by the sink.’</p><p>‘What was the ticket?’ Eliot asked.</p><p>‘Little weird, but I’ve seen weirder.’ Joey found the slip of paper and passed it over. ‘Paella, no veggies, hold the onion.’</p><p>‘…that’s a pretty crappy way to order a paella.’</p><p>‘It came back anyway,’ Amy offered. ‘Guy over by the window. Left a fifty but only took like two bites.’</p><p>‘Seen him before?’</p><p>‘No, don’t think so.’</p><p>Thanking god and his own paranoia for the now fully-kitted AV security in the pub, Hardison sped to the back room and pulled up the feeds, skipping through to find the appropriate timeframe.</p><p>‘Suit, no tie,’ Sophie observed once they had the footage zoomed into the table. ‘Definitely not a regular, it’s too late for the business lunch crowd.’</p><p>‘He’s armed,’ Eliot said darkly. ‘Can tell by the way he’s sitting. Don’t use it a lot but it’s there in his jacket.’</p><p>‘I’m running facial recognition.’ Hardison grimaced as a match came up, and pushed it onto the display. ‘Matches one David Banducci, got a bunch of minor warrants out of state...looks like the cops can’t make him for anything solid.’</p><p>‘Banducci?’ Nate echoed. ‘As in Adrian Banducci? The Seattle Banduccis?’</p><p>‘Davey boy’s Adrian’s son.’ Alec plopped the keyboard back onto the table with a frown. ‘Why in hell would a regular-ass restaurant chef recognise the son of a Seattle crime boss?’</p><p>‘Maybe our Molly’s a little more than a chef,’ Sophie said thoughtfully.</p><p>‘Naw, no way – I <em>checked</em> her, and you know how <em>I</em> check people.’</p><p>‘What about Witsec?’ Parker suggested.</p><p>‘I <em>checked</em> that. She’s squeaky clean, just a bunch of restaurant jobs!’</p><p>‘Bring up her resume,’ Nate said suddenly.</p><p>‘What?’</p><p>‘Just do it.’</p><p>‘It’s just <em>restaurants</em>, man-‘ Hardison gestured as he brought the file up ‘-pubs, bars, couple fancier places…’</p><p>‘That one.’ Sophie pointed. ‘The Barolo. I’ve been there. It’s a legitimate business but the place is always <em>full</em> of criminals, including the local mob. Banducci’s crowd are regulars. I know the Three Lions over in Redmond, too, and that’s always full of expat Brits on the wrong side of the law.’</p><p>‘En Rama in Tacoma rings a bell,’ Eliot added, squinting. ‘Swear I made a dropoff there once. And I know a guy who used to work La Petite Maison in Olympia; that’s where the upscale local gangs do their deals on neutral ground.’</p><p>‘Fort George in Astoria! I’ve been there!’ Parker waggled an arm. ‘Did a handover. One of my last jobs with Archie.’</p><p>‘I’d be willing to bet every single place she’s ever worked, right back to The Rose and Crown in Kent, is the same,’ Nate said. ‘They’ve all got underworld connections. After all, a chef with good discretion and a complete unwillingness to put up with anyone’s crap would be a pretty big asset for an owner who knows a lot of his loyal regulars are on the wrong side of the law.’</p><p>‘They’re all <em>legit</em>, not fronts or laundering operations, but-‘ Hardison wanted to smack himself in the head ‘-my god, you’re right. I didn’t even see it…’</p><p>‘Look at the dates, too,’ Sophie added. ‘All over for a while, but after the Barolo she started moving south. Trying to get out of Seattle. Wound up in Portland, first in Stanford’s north of the river, and then here.’</p><p>‘Trying to get away from something,’ Nate agreed. ‘Or some<em>one</em>.’</p><p>‘But why not skip states, or the country for that matter?’</p><p>‘Because someone’s watching the airports. The Banduccis have big connections with a lot of overseas cartels and they move a lot of product by air. She knows that so she’s been trying to get away by inches.’</p><p>‘But away from <em>what</em>?’ Parker asked. ‘She’s a chef, not like she’d be involved in the actual crime, surely?’</p><p>‘Could be a witness,’ Sophie suggested grimly. ‘Saw too much, or saw the wrong thing.’</p><p>‘Don’t buy it.’ Nate scratched at his chin. ‘If the Banduccis had a mark on her they wouldn’t pussyfoot around; they’d track her down and take her out, no niceties. But instead…David Banducci hears something, comes here to…to what, to check it out? Himself? That doesn’t add up.’</p><p>‘The paella,’ Eliot said suddenly. ‘He ordered the paella – she said her paella <em>always did well</em> on the menu, when we were arguing about wheat ale and shrimp. He made her from the damn recipe!’</p><p>‘And she made him because he ordered it with no veggies and no onion,’ Parker finished, ‘Which is proof alone the guy’s a total whack job…what?’</p><p>‘I’ll try calling her.’ Alec yanked out his cell and dialled, but as he’d expected the number just rang out, and a quick track revealed it to still be in the pub; probably in the garbage. ‘Nope, nothing.’</p><p>‘Got her address?’ Eliot asked.</p><p>‘Hey, that’s employee confidential, man, I don’t know if I wanna-‘</p><p>‘<em>Dammit</em> Hardison, she could be in <em>danger</em>!’ That came out with the usual snarl of impatience, but there was an undertone of real worry there, too. ‘We got <em>no</em> idea what Banducci wants with her and <em>she’s</em> our only lead!’</p><p>Which was a fair point, Alec had to admit, and texted the hitter the details. Eliot was out of the door in a snap, but the cogs still seemed to be turning in Nate’s head.</p><p>‘He came alone.’</p><p>‘Who?’ Hardison asked.</p><p>‘Banducci. The heir apparent of one of Seattle’s biggest crime families, and he came in <em>alone</em> to a pub in Portland…’</p><p>‘Slipped his guards?’ Parker suggested.</p><p>‘But why?’</p><p>‘Unless he’s doing something he doesn’t want getting back to dear old dad,’ Sophie said with a slow smile.</p><p>‘Like what?’ Hardison exclaimed. ‘Chasing down the only chef who’ll put up with his dumbass paella requests?’</p><p>‘Can you zoom in on his face on the recording?’</p><p>‘Uh. Sure.’ Wondering what she was about, Alec got the screen as close as the resolution would allow to the guy’s annoyingly chiselled features. ‘That enough?’</p><p>‘Show me when he tastes it.’</p><p>Now thoroughly weirded out, he adjusted the playback.</p><p>‘Oh.’ Nate nodded. ‘<em>Oh</em>. Yeah, he’s definitely not going to want his old man to know about this.’</p><p>‘Can one of you please use your <em>words</em>?’ Hardison protested.</p><p>‘That expression.’ Sophie indicated the frozen image on the projector. ‘It’s not just triumph. It’s <em>relief</em>. He isn’t after Molly because he wants to get <em>rid</em> of her. Quite the opposite.’</p><p>‘He thinks he’s in love,’ Parker said, making a grossed-out face that rather echoed Alec’s own view on the matter.</p><p>‘<em>Thinks</em> he is,’ Nate agreed. ‘But that’s not love. Not really. I’d be willing to bet she rebuffed him-‘</p><p>‘Like she did to Eliot?’</p><p>‘-ahem, possibly – and of course the son of Adrian Banducci is <em>not</em> used to not getting what he wants.’</p><p>‘Especially with the ladies, I’ll bet,’ Sophie added. ‘That jawline. Oof.’</p><p>‘So my head chef is being <em>stalked</em> by the son of a mob boss,’ Alec said slowly. ‘This is…surreal, guys. Even by our <em>very</em> generous standards. You get that, right?’</p>
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<a name="section0005"><h2>5. A Bunch Of Robin Hoods</h2></a>
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</p><p>‘But we have to help her.’ Sophie glanced at Nate. ‘We’re <em>going</em> to help her. Aren’t we?’</p><p>Any response was cut off by Hardison’s phone ringing; Eliot. He put it on speaker.</p><p>‘<em>She’s gone. No signs of struggle, forced entry, nothing like that. Slid the key back under the door after she locked up</em>.’</p><p>‘That many sudden departures, she’s probably got it off to a fine art by now,’ Nate remarked.</p><p>‘<em>Place is weird</em>,’ Eliot added, and several low thumps came through. ‘<em>Dust in all the drawers, cabinets, even the wardrobe. Like a hotel room ain’t been stayed in for months.</em>’</p><p>‘Living out of a suitcase,’ Sophie said. ‘Always ready to run.’</p><p>‘<em>Little old lady across the hall didn’t catch anything. Didn’t have her hearing aid turned on</em>.’ Eliot sounded torn between frustration and dim amusement at that. ‘<em>So what now</em>?’</p><p>‘Getting out of the city…’ Hardison did a quick search, frowning, and tapped into the local CCTV feeds ‘…Union Station or the bus, if she’s not going for the airport. Or drive, I guess. Rental car, maybe?’</p><p>‘Got to be the train,’ Parker said. ‘Bus is far too easy to catch up to and intercept, surely?’</p><p>‘Not seeing her at the train station, Bolt, Greyhound or Rose Quarter.’ Alec thought for a moment. ‘I can hit her financials, maybe, see if I can backtrack a ticket…damn. Or not.’ The accounts were stripped bare; it looked like she’d been withdrawing heavily to keep all but fifty bucks as cash. ‘Yeah, she’s definitely done this before.’</p><p>‘<em>Everywhere takes cash</em>,’ Eliot complained. ‘<em>There’s gotta be a dozen places for a rental car or</em>-‘</p><p>‘She’s not taking a car,’ Nate said with an abrupt grin. ‘Or a train, plane, bus, anywhere with a publicly-known route that could be intercepted. Eliot, hit Cutter Circle by the river. Enough cash on hand would get her conveniently forgotten in a corner with some freight. That’s her route out of the city.’</p><p>‘<em>Lot of places down there, Nate</em>.’</p><p>‘And only one English woman trying to bribe her way onto a boat or a truck. Get moving.’ Nate promptly hung up the phone before further objections were forthcoming. ‘We need to know where David Banducci is now. Everything we need to get Molly out of this is on his cell phone.’</p><p>‘He’s at the Greyhound,’ Hardison said, having already had the recognition algorithm running. ‘In fact he’s on the phone. Probably hired some local muscle to check the other stations.’</p><p>‘On it.’ Parker sprang up. ‘I’ll get his phone.’</p><p>‘Slip it back to him once you’ve cloned it,’ Nate added, ‘We’ll make the call from here. I kind of want to make a point with this guy.’</p><p>‘Don’t tell me you’re getting protective of the chef,’ Sophie said to him with a little grin.</p><p>‘Maybe a little.’ He shrugged. ‘She makes great potato cakes.’</p><p>That observation made Hardison chuckle too, but he kept focused on the CCTV and found his way into the cameras around the docks and freight stations that surrounded Swan Island Basin. It wasn’t hard to spot Eliot’s truck parked somewhat haphazardly off Leverman Street, and he found the hitter engaged in a conversation with some loaders a little way off. A quick ping confirmed that he’d thought to put his earbud in, as had Parker, so Alec fired up the main comms program.</p><p>‘How we doing, guys?’</p><p>‘<em>Some guys saw a woman with a duffel heading to the big YRC depot</em>,’ Eliot replied. ‘<em>On my way now</em>.’</p><p>‘<em>Got Banducci in sight</em>.’ Parker had made good time to the station, undoubtedly racking up some traffic charges on the way but he could clean those up later. ‘<em>Just a sec.</em>’</p><p>‘<em>I see her</em>!’ Eliot shifted to a jog. ‘<em>Molly</em>!’</p><p>‘<em>Got the phone</em>,’ Parker said. ‘<em>On my way back now</em>.’</p><p>‘Nice one, mama.’ While the clone downloaded, Hardison caught Sophie’s expression and cracked a grin, turning the gain up so they could get a better audio of both ends of Eliot’s conversation with Molly.</p><p>‘<em>What in god’s name are you doing here</em>?’ She sounded understandably alarmed.</p><p>‘<em>Looking for you</em>. <em>We know what’s going on with Banducci</em>.’</p><p>‘<em>You – what? Who’s WE, exactly</em>?’</p><p>‘<em>We both know you ain’t that dumb.</em>’ A snort. ‘<em>C’mon, come back. We can fix this</em>.’</p><p>‘<em>Not against the bloody Banducci family you can’t!</em>’</p><p>‘<em>We can</em>.’ Then Eliot’s voice softened in a way Hardison hadn’t heard in a <em>long</em> time. ‘<em>You can’t want to spend your whole life running from this asshole, Molly. Let us help. Please</em>.’</p><p>There was a long pause.</p><p>‘<em>You’d better know what you’re doing, cowboy</em>,’ she said, sounding more resigned than hopeful, but it would do for now. Satisfied that they were on the way back to the pub, Hardison exhaled.</p><p>Parker returned first, just as the clone she’d pulled had fully downloaded, so he yanked everything on it and put himself in a back door while Nate started perusing the text and email logs on the projector. Ten minutes later the staff door opened to admit Eliot and a very worried-looking Molly.</p><p>‘What in the world-‘</p><p>‘David Banducci’s phone and everything on it,’ Sophie supplied, getting up to guide her to a chair. ‘I assume you’ve realised we’re not exactly a brew pub investment group.’</p><p>‘I’d noticed. But why do you care what happens to me?’</p><p>‘It’s what we do,’ Parker said to her. ‘We help people. Not necessarily through, y’know, <em>legal</em> means, but still…’</p><p>‘Oh lord. You’re a bunch of Robin Hoods?’</p><p>‘Something like that,’ Nate said cheerfully. ‘Did you know David Banducci has missed <em>three</em> quite major meetings with his father’s Colombian trade contacts in favour of chasing after you? Not to mention the money he’s sunk into trying to keep tabs on your whereabouts…’</p><p>‘What happened?’ Sophie asked, cocking her head. Molly grimaced.</p><p>‘When I worked at the Barolo, David and his dad’s cronies were regulars. He has this onion allergy, and for some reason the other line chef got a bee in his bonnet about leaving it out of the ragu, so I did it myself with some asafetida to replace the flavour, then every time they came in after that <em>I</em> had to do their food, personally, and take it to the damned table myself. He started trying to flirt and got a real attitude when I said I wasn’t interested. And I was <em>polite</em>,’ she added pointedly, with a mild glare in Eliot’s direction. ‘The jerkoff just wasn’t used to hearing no for an answer, I guess.’</p><p>‘Is that why you left?’ Parker said.</p><p>‘The head chef told me it’d make everyone’s lives <em>a lot easier</em> if I just agreed to date him. Then the restaurant owner caught wind and didn’t want to alienate his best – and most dangerous – customers, so he threatened to fire me if I didn’t play ball with David.’ A shrug. ‘I threw a citrus squeezer at his face and quit. Except David found me in my next job, and the next one, and I didn’t want to go work for some ordinary chain restaurant – or back to somewhere with a Michelin Star, god forbid – so I had to get good at hiding. I didn’t think he’d try to follow me out of the <em>city</em>…and I definitely didn’t know he was screwing with his dad’s business interests over it.’</p><p>‘By the end of today he’s not going to be a problem for you any more,’ Nate said firmly, standing and getting his phone out to dial Banducci’s number. ‘David Banducci? My name is Nathan Ford and I have a business proposition for you. It relates to Molly Thomas. Be at the Bridgeport pub in the next half hour.’ He hung up without further comment and flashed a wry look in Molly’s direction. ‘That’ll get him moving.’</p><p>‘I’m thinking an early close.’ Hardison hopped up to make it happen. Issuing ultimatums and digital blackmail of crime family scions could get messy, and that wasn’t the kind of attention the place needed. As usual the staff were all perfectly happy to take the full shift’s pay and skedaddle out once the current queue of customers was cleared; he resisted the urge to guffaw at the disappointed faces in the queue as Amy, who’d lost the rock-paper-scissors match, worked her way down the line to explain that sorry, they were closing early today, unexpected emergency…</p><p>Once the place was empty they shifted things around to put the biggest table in the middle of the main room in front of the bar. Molly retreated into the kitchen to make tea and coffee, a classic displacement activity in the face of her obvious nervousness.</p><p>Right on time, there was a knock at the front door. Eliot went to open it and narrowed his eyes, clearly sizing up the four goons who came in along with Banducci himself. From the barely-concealed smirk that settled on his face, the quartet didn’t pose much in the way of a challenge, which Hardison was not ashamed to admit he found at least a little reassuring.</p><p>‘Mister Ford, I assume,’ Banducci said without preamble, and Alec felt his own fist ball at the smug expression on the jerkoff’s face. ‘Delighted to make your acquaintance.’</p><p>‘I doubt that’ll last long,’ Nate said dryly. ‘Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to go home to Seattle and get on with whatever your father gives you that passes for a job, and you’re not going to bother Miss Thomas or give the remotest crap where in the world she is from this minute onward.’</p><p>Banducci laughed.</p><p>‘And why exactly would I do that? <em>Miss Thomas</em> and I have…unfinished business.’</p><p>‘Because if you don’t,’ Nate replied, his voice shifting to that clipped tone he generally used before figuratively – or literally – obliterating a mark, ‘Your father will find out exactly how much your little stalker campaign has cost him, and his business, in time, money <em>and</em> favours from his allies and partners.’</p><p>‘For example, three missed Colombian shipments,’ Hardison said casually, taking the cue and opening his laptop to scan down the list, ‘Or the two hundred thousand in additional bribes at King County <em>and</em> Tacoma International. Oh, this is a fun one – you burned a whole-ass favour with the Marchello folks down in Olympia and I’m <em>sure</em> your daddy was saving that for a rainy day-‘</p><p>Fair play to Banducci; once he knew the game was up he didn’t waste further time with talking, just nodded to his goon squad and stepped back. Admittedly two of the goons were on the floor clutching at various bits of anatomy before they got very far – Eliot in a temper had that effect on people – but number three was a little more capable and actually got a couple of lumps back on the hitter, obliging him to refocus.</p><p>The fourth man ducked Parker’s taser while kicking her hard enough in the shin that she went down, which was more than enough reason for Alec to leap up and swing at him. <em>Ow</em>. He hadn’t closed his fist properly – <em>damn, Eliot’s going to chew me out for that</em> – and the connection wasn’t as solid as it ought to have been, although the man did take a step back. The slight smirk didn’t last more than a second, however, before there was a loud <em>clong</em> and the guy went from vertical to horizontal without appearing to pass through any intermediate stages.</p><p>Molly lowered the frying pan she’d grabbed through the service window and grimaced.</p><p>‘Damn,’ Eliot said to her with a broad grin, having laid the third man out in the meantime. ‘You <em>are</em> feisty.’ Then he grabbed Banducci by the scruff and shoved him forward.</p><p>‘Any further objections?’ Nate asked dryly. ‘Or is my associate here going to send some emails?’</p><p>A mumble.</p><p>‘Excuse me?’</p><p>‘I said <em>fine</em>.’ Banducci stood up as Eliot let go of him and straightened his jacket with a look that walked the perfect line between defeated resignation and a first class sulk. He glanced at Molly, who still had the pan in her hands. ‘You know, you dumb broad, I could’ve made you <em>happy</em>. You wouldn’t have wanted for <em>nothing</em>.’</p><p>‘Bugger off, you miserable wanker,’ she shot back.</p><p>Scowling, he just turned and limped out.</p><p>‘Not to make a fuss,’ Sophie remarked after a moment, ‘But are these goons all over the floor locals, or…?’</p><p>‘I’ll call the cops,’ Hardison offered with a grin. ‘After all, they burst in here and tried to <em>rob</em> the joint, right? And us all being nice, law-abiding business people…’</p><p>‘I don’t know how I’m ever going to repay you all,’ Molly said, putting the pan back with a sigh. ‘You really had no need to – well, to <em>wade in</em> – it wasn’t your problem…’</p><p>‘Woman, you the best cook this place ever had,’ Alec told her, holding off dialling the local PD to nip that protest in the bud, ‘Not a word,’ he added pointedly to Eliot, but the hitter just grinned.</p><p>‘Actually I was gonna agree with you. Shame about the paella, though.’ He winked at Molly. ‘Might be the guy wouldn’t have found you if you’d changed your recipe up a little.’</p><p>‘It’s <em>good</em> paella,’ she retorted, folding her arms.</p><p>‘Never said it wasn’t.’ Then he sobered a little, the smile turning as close to sheepish as Hardison had ever seen on him. ‘Sorry about the – uh – well. You know. If I’d known-‘</p><p>‘It didn’t bother me.’ She actually smiled back, with a surprising amount of warmth. ‘You’re a lot of things, but you’re not a creep and you’re <em>definitely</em> not David Banducci.’ Then she actually winked at him. ‘You think I’d spend time thinking up all those redneck insults if I <em>really</em> hated you?’</p><p>‘Huh.’ A hint of playfulness crept back into Eliot’s expression, and Alec barely resisted the urge to facepalm. ‘So does that mean maybe you <em>will</em> let me take you out some time?’</p><p>Molly gave him a long look.</p><p>‘If you <em>really</em> want…we can go for a hot dog.’</p><p>‘A…hot dog.’</p><p>‘Uh-huh.’</p><p>‘I can-‘ Eliot seemed absolutely incredulous at the notion ‘-I can take you to Canard, or Willow – I know a guy works at Mucca Osteria could get us a table, or-‘</p><p>Hardison nearly choked when he saw Sophie and Nate exchange knowing looks. Crap, the hitter was actually <em>trying</em> to impress Molly…definitely not like his usual fly-by-night pickup flirting.</p><p>‘I <em>like</em> hotdogs,’ she replied with a shrug. ‘I <em>don’t</em> like fancy rubbish. Would have thought that’d be a point in your favour really…cowboy.’ Then, without so much as skipping a beat, she kissed Hardison on the cheek, gave Parker a hug – with a conspiratorial whisper about cheesecake that elicited a beaming smile – and even pecked Nate on the chin. ‘I’ll make you some potato cakes tomorrow, Curly.’</p><p>That moniker had Sophie erupting into peals of laughter, but Molly just went straight for the door and paused right on the threshold to glance back pointedly.</p><p>‘Well, are you coming? I like Zach’s up by forty-sixth, incidentally, but I suppose there’s Donnie Vegas up on Alberta if you want to go <em>posh</em>.’</p><p>Eliot broke into a broad grin and hurried to catch up with her, going immediately back into flirting mode.</p><p>‘Oh, I got no problem not going <em>posh</em>, darlin’, don’t you worry…’</p><p>‘See?’ Sophie said triumphantly as the door banged shut behind the pair. ‘They’ll be pulling each other’s pigtails by the end of the night.’</p><p>Chuckling, Hardison dialled the police and had to exert a conscious effort to sound appropriately sober as he reported the <em>break in</em> at the pub, which wasn’t even remotely aided by Parker’s confused noise.</p><p>‘Does that mean I win the bet? But neither of them had their hair in pigtails. Would Eliot <em>let</em> anyone put his hair in pigtails? I tried to braid it once and he got all growly…’</p><p>‘I don’t think a hot dog counts as a confession of <em>feelings</em>, Parker. And what d’you mean, like a French braid? I always thought he’d look quite nice with a proper updo, actually, like a twist or maybe a part top-knot, few bobby pins to hold it together, maybe a nice clip…’</p><p>‘Oh my god.’ Hardison shook his head. ‘I’m gonna call the PD for these dudes. Y’all can keep planning creative forms of suicide on your own damn time.’</p><p>Then he went to act like a responsible business owner for ten minutes so the two chefs of his acquaintance would still have a kitchen to come back to whenever they were done…pulling each other’s hair.</p><p>Or whatever.</p><p>
  <em>fin</em>
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